


When We Are Ready to Live it

by theZanyArthropleura



Series: WIPmas [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Christmas Party, Christmas Special, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gender Dysphoria, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, References to Depression, Trans Sombra | Olivia Colomar, Will occasionally deal with heavy and difficult topics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:47:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28288677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theZanyArthropleura/pseuds/theZanyArthropleura
Summary: WIPmas: a self-imposed challenge to write a holiday-themed special for as many of my WIPs as I can, regardless of how much is complete or whether any of it is posted at all.Set in an Overwatch AU I've actually written quite a bit for, I've just never posted anything. Would take place sometime after the third or fourth story arc.
Relationships: Emily/Lena "Tracer" Oxton/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Fareeha "Pharah" Amari/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Sombra | Olivia Colomar & Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Sombra | Olivia Colomar/Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani
Series: WIPmas [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2072982
Kudos: 8





	When We Are Ready to Live it

The small space between trees had been spared the snow, the wooden bench remaining pristine even as light reflected off the ground behind it. Satya stepped through, the rift in space collapsing into complex spiral designs behind her before disappearing entirely.

“Oh,” Sombra lightly gasped from where she was seated.

Satya stared blankly, detecting something had been remarked upon but at a loss for the cause.

“N-no, it’s just…” Sombra recoiled a bit, standing from the bench nervously and hugging into her coat. “You look… really cute with all your winter stuff on.”

Satya blushed, even if she was confused. Her gold-lined, dark blue coat, padded light blue gloves, and silver-banded, light blue earmuffs were simply par for the course for temperatures below twenty degrees. “Thank you, you… always look cute.”

Sombra tensed, and Satya immediately regretted the words, stuttering in place. “I mean, just… not like… you look cute to _me_ , always. I think the skull is cute.”

And yes, the way the cloth mask stretched with the skin underneath, to look like one of the eye sockets was opening wider, was indeed very cute, at least to Satya.

Sombra had relaxed, finally, and Satya set her gloves delicately on the other girl’s shoulders, asking permission before pulling her into a warm embrace that warded off the cold.

“You know, you don’t actually have to—”

“ _Yes I do_ ,” Satya insisted, as she did every time Sombra brought it up.

When there was snow on the ground, Sombra couldn’t use her invisibility. It might have been true, that in the coldest weather, wearing an entire cloth facemask wasn’t the most remarkable thing, but many already knew her, some persistent few continuing to watch like jeering vultures.

“Which building is it this time?” Satya gently asked as they pulled apart.

“The one on eighth and applewood.”

Satya searched her thoughts with a frown. “…which is?”

“With the red roof and the line of trees along the side.”

“Oh!” Satya realized, the memory appearing vividly in her thoughts.

She focused on the foggier rendition of what was in the now, the cloud that represented herself drifting through other indiscernible clouds of being until she found a space nearby free of them, an exit path that would not be observed. Ripples of pale blue light washed over Satya’s hands, even over her gloves, as she wove light into familiar spirals, throwing her arms finally aside to draw out the full width of her portal.

“An hour,” Sombra confirmed as they stepped through.

“Of course,” Satya nodded, the portal collapsing as they stepped out to the concrete path amid the semi-urban sprawl.

  


* * *

  


Angela hurried at a stealthy pace down the side of the main hall, clutching nervously at the strap slung over her shoulder. She’d _felt_ eyes on her, but glances all around seemed to reveal she was alone. She breathed a faint relief as she reached one of the ancient bookcases, with its many cupboards, and nervously slung the messenger bag into her hands.

She barely heard the sliding rush of energy before Lúcio dropped in freefall from the wall above, the bag’s strap torn free of Angela’s grip as the green, energetic glow faded from the DJ’s feet. Angela made a frantic attempt at a grab, but the light adorned Lúcio shoes once more, just as quickly, and he slid himself three meters away along the wall and out of her present reach.

Angela snarled with frustration, and rushed to speak, but the DJ held out a hand, counting off on the fingers of his other.

“ _No_. I have tolerated this on weekends, during vacations, during training sessions, and _during battle_ , but I don’t care _how_ many advanced classes you’re taking, you are not. Studying. On Christmas!”

Angela let her arms and shoulders fall in defeat as he rushed away, a pout across her face as she muttered meekly. “My present was in there…”

“It’s okay, you can give it to me later!”

Startled again, Angela stepped out of the way as Fareeha descended, keeping only a short distance from the landing zone as the four, starlike flares of orange light vanished into deep amber, dissipating energetic cackles over the other girl’s blue motorcycle jacket.

Glancing up, Angela realized her girlfriend had been stringing garlands across the castle’s arch-shaped upper rafters.

Or, garlands, and _one_ hanging bough of mistletoe, directly overhead.

Fareeha was immediately sheepish, red in the cheeks over a shy smile. “Sorry, I just… It was _right there_ , I couldn’t exactly resist! You don’t have to… if it’s too early…”

She was silenced by Angela’s lips on hers, a hand cupped gently to the side of her face, and a thumb rubbing across the red in her cheeks as if it might have been sore.

Angela pulled away and, very much against her better instincts, set today’s worries aside until tomorrow. With the way Fareeha was looking at her, that was easier than it probably should have been. “Maybe Lúcio has a point.”

A slight frown brought Fareeha out of her dazed silence. “Huh? About what?”

“That today… there might just be a more important use of my time… than studying.”

Fareeha gave her a smirk, and a knowing look. “That hurt to say, didn’t it?”

Angela winced. “…A little.”

  


* * *

  


Amélie wound the thin ribbon delicately with her fingers, tying a precise bow over the first of two wrapped boxes.

She’d wanted to show… something. That she’d been thinking about the two of them, perhaps, but they would already have known that. She knew she’d appreciated the shows of emotion, the thrill of planning the greatest surprise, at one time.

But as with so many things, that had been Before.

Satya had assured her – with others present, confirming it was a sentiment held in common with the rest – that gifts could be humorous, or simply practical, and that to give a truly meaningful gift said more of the opportune circumstances involved than of one’s worth or dedication. One should not feel shame for a gift’s inadequacy. It was a superficial gesture, an excuse for appearing at someone’s door when the true gift was one’s presence alone.

She’d missed a step somewhere, with the bow. Now, the ribbon was a tangled cat’s cradle in her hands. The loops of the green, reflective thread fit so _neatly_ into the thin scars wrapped around her fingers.

 _You are packaging a gift_ , she assured herself, _not pulling a wire to a man’s throat. You are above ground, in a house with windows, and you may leave any time you wish._

She untangled the ribbon and finished tying the bow, admiring the perfection. The last time she’d looked upon her work like this, it had been a gift for Gérard. She’d missed Gérard, just like she’d missed the funeral, and the flowers, and most of her junior year to the point she’d had to retake it, because normal things need, indeed, resume no matter how trivial.

Her mother was at the bedroom door, and she wasn’t quite sure when that had happened. The woman’s face was the same as it had been, these last few months – tearfully thankful Amélie had made friends again.

“Goodbye,” Amélie managed to say this time upon exit, moving quickly through the word she had made herself focus on instead of _you waited a year for a ransom demand that never came._

  


* * *

  


They met in the circle of stumps behind the old lodge, the wooden seats in question all thoughtfully cleared of snow.

Also present were both Emily and Hanzo. Amélie couldn’t be sure how close either of them were to the original team, comparatively, as all three had been assigned the role of ‘guests’ simply because, in Lena’s words, _someone had to be_. Emily stood up excitedly upon the taller, paler girl’s arrival, embracing Amélie in a quick, leaping hug – though significantly less leaping than Lena’s were.

It was the frivolous, festive-greeting-between-friends-or-loved-ones hug, appropriate of the redhead’s theme-patterned sweater, but then Emily closed her eyes and tightened her arms and made it more, and Amélie stopped entirely hating it.

Satya’s portal opened shortly thereafter, an instantaneous gateway from the cold and snow to… more cold and snow, because it had apparently been decided they were to be given the show of being taken in through the castle’s exterior entrance. Lena and Jesse joined Satya as guides for the short tour, one which included a pair of wreaths that were easily large enough to, if sufficiently buoyant, be floated down a river with all six of them as passengers.

The decorations were… _there_ , Amélie supposed. All grander or more magic-assisted versions of what was typical of the season. She remembered thinking those sorts of things homely, exuding warmth that soothed the soul, but now it only felt loud and boisterous, a tone-deaf gesture of enforced holiday joy.

The party was in full swing, and she couldn’t remember with detail how that had come to be, but she took it in stride. Lúcio was on stage, acting as DJ for his seemingly-endless playlist of techno covers and remixes of classic holiday songs.

That was strategic, Amélie suspected. Anyone who tried to sing along would risk making a complete fool of themselves, due to the unfamiliar pacing changes and repetitions inserted into each otherwise long-memorized piece of music.

There was no set, collective location to share the dinner meal, either, and for probably the same reason. Genji filled his plate and, with a respectful nod of the custom-painted plastic mask beneath his hood, departed for another room of the castle. Satya and Sombra took both of their own meals as well, and disappeared together into the upper levels.

Amélie followed Lena and Emily to a quieter gathering next to the base of the tall tree, which had undoubtably been moved into the building with the assistance of a portal. Ornaments hung from even the branches that neared the ceiling, and all around it, and in the air over their heads, floated pale blue, twinkling snowflake designs that also must have been Satya’s doing.

When Emily was finished eating, her face turned as red as her hair, but her smile was fierce and unbothered. She searched the several bags she’d brought with her for a small, decorative one with the contents hidden by crumpled paper.

Lena instantly fell to true and uncontained embarrassment, which she tried to hide by shoving an entire half of a potato into her mouth, and holding her hand and fork to her lips to keep it inside.

Amélie was familiar with the contents as well, but kept her reaction to a plain, almost fond smirk.

Emily stood with slight apology, but the fire of determination. “Just need to go drop this off, I’ll be back in a minute!” She’d sing-sung the last few words, beginning to lightly and airily skip on her feet as she headed upstairs.

Lena looked like she might be about to gag, but swallowed her mouthful dutifully, eyes bulging until she sat back beside Amélie to calm herself.

“So… you gonna talk to her?”

It was Amélie’s turn to feel… _slight_ embarrassment, perhaps more so faint worry and nerves. “If… if I can find the opportunity, yes.”

Lena was pressed against her side, now, in assurance. “What ya worried about, love?” she asked, now sounding slightly more nervous herself.

Amélie took in a breath. “I… am not sure how to broach the matter delicately. My own feelings, I need not be concerned for, but…”

“I’m sure she’s used to people trippin’ _all over_ ‘emselves.” Lena reassured with more of a smile and a bit of a laugh. “Just gotta be genuine with her. If anything goes wrong, you’re both here with all of us, we can work it out.”

Amélie breathed, and hesitated a moment before bring her free hand across to sooth at Lena’s arm and shoulder. The brunette snuggled into her with a warmth that made her feel confusedly cared for, and for the moment, she let it be.

  


* * *

  


As always, Satya was the one facing the door, plate held in one hand above crossed legs while the other worked her fork. A few of her light-generated snowflakes hung unsupported in the air, giving the room a faint illumination to eat by.

She couldn’t help _mmm_ -ing as she took a bite. “Fareeha’s mother is an excellent cook.”

“Yeah,” Sombra agreed from behind, her quiet voice even quieter than usual while she, presumably, had the mask off or pulled up to eat. Her shoulders and spine tensed a bit where they rested against Satya’s, though she relaxed almost forcefully in an attempt to keep the other girl from noticing.

“Everything alright?” Satya spoke quietly, worried regardless.

“Fine,” Sombra assured hurriedly, but sighed. “Just… _another year_ , you know? I can definitely keep it together until we’re done eating.”

Satya nodded, then voiced “alright,” but pulled up her knees to balance the plate upon them, offering what comfort she could with her back and shoulders.

She tensed, when footsteps approached from outside and led to a knock on the door, then relaxed again when Emily spoke quickly before departing.

“Just gonna leave this out here! Merry Christmas!”

Her voice was both musical and suggestive, and Satya felt her cheeks flush as her eyes rolled.

It was widely known that Emily had no shame whatsoever, and so the girl had made it her personal task to be a courier and distributor of… well, _supplies_ , generally, but those supplies tended to also include certain intimate clothing items, which Sombra wouldn’t have the confidence to purchase on her own for perhaps another decade, and _Satya_ quite possibly never would at all. Neither of them had asked her to do this, of course, but the red-haired girl remained undeterred in the face of many embarrassed pleas that her efforts were unnecessary.

Perhaps she could tell they were… _sort of_ untruths. Satya could admit the in-person exchange and implication was occasionally discomforting, but… ultimately appreciated, when she could find the confidence and simple want to be more open with her girlfriend. She could revel in the power and gift of the gesture, when Sombra needed to be very creative about placement to be comfortable showing any skin at all.

  


* * *

  


Periwinkle light gathered around the edges of Amélie’s shoes as she ascended the wall, ankles twisted at odd angles while she made her way to one of the higher arches. With one hand on the roof scaffold, adhering in the same way, she lay in wait, like the dark spider embossed on the back of her leather jacket.

As the seconds, then minutes passed, she almost smiled in anticipation, the sort of feeling that might have once made her giggle to herself at her own antics, but now Amélie only felt stupid. After another minute, she dropped again to the floor, frowning as she took to pacing the halls instead.

She was fortunate, finding Sombra looking on from a secluded corner, where only the protruding edge of a stone wall separated her from the main throne room. Satya was there, offering wrapping arms and reassurance in a seeming break from the festivities.

Amélie hid herself for a moment of quiet breathing, considering whether she should leave them be, but when it appeared not to be so serious an event, she made a cautious approach, trying as much as she could to chip away the cold disinterest that was her usual way of dealing with others.

“Could… we speak?” she mumbled with hesitance, her vulnerability coloring the request more than she’d actually intended.

Satya seemed to understand as soon as she saw Amélie and heard the words, even if Sombra herself appeared reluctant and mildly alarmed. Satya put a hand to her girlfriend’s shoulder, meeting the eyes of a cloth mask with warmth and encouragement.

“…Yeah, sure.” Sombra muttered with more confusion than fear, looking back at Amélie and nodding with agreement.

  


* * *

  


They departed for the stone balcony at the rear of the castle, finding the sky dark and the snow still making steady progress toward blanketing the world. White dusted the branches of the great spruce trees, and left only the tallest patches of grass visible on the ground below.

The one called Bastion danced in the slow downpour, goaded on by the excited fluttering of a yellow bird perched safely on a low branch in the shadow of one of the trees. From between the mystically assembled slabs of ancient stone, the brilliant blue of the golem’s life force cast the surrounding ground cover and drifting flakes in a dim, cerulean glow.

Twisting up a leg and knee, Amélie cleared a dusting of snow off the length of the stone bench, and reclined to take in the view, Sombra settling to her left with only a slight chill. The soft, hooded jacket Sombra wore was heavier than the one she wore year-round, though with a similar color palette of black and purple, and the cloth that never left her face now offered a unique protection from the cold. Visible breaths filtered out from the black cloth beneath purple skull-teeth, as she waited patiently with crossed, huddled arms.

Amélie turned to face outward again, shuffling closer to Sombra with the movement. She allowed her eyes the distraction of Bastion’s distant antics, and was warmed moderately by the strain from all the muscles in her body attempting to pull inwards.

“I know… what it is like, to be unmade.”

When the words were free, whispered in forced breaths from tensing lips, she felt something almost close to terror again.

“I… know it is not precisely the same,” she continued, shivering. “And… forgive me, if I am wrong in thinking this, but…” Still with no reaction, she took a breath and was able to settle from the worst. “…I know that others will… never understand that sort of thing, not truly. Never know that pain, to have so much taken, be so… _defiled_ , to the very core of identity, except…” Her wide and hopeful, perhaps desperate eyes met the placeholders of Sombra’s. “Except, I thought…”

Sombra’s hand was on her shoulder. It was hesitant, and fearful, that Amélie could feel plainly as well as see in the stillness of the mask, but as she leaned into the touch with a calming breath, the other girl seemed relieved and comforted as well.

“I… didn’t think you would see it like that,” Sombra spoke, still stunned and perhaps tearful. “I didn’t… expect that from you, I…”

Amélie nodded. “You have been… _avoiding me_ , it has felt like, though not the way others do.”

Sombra pulled away her arm, but leaned closer, the shock of warmth making contact through the cold shell of what was once air. “Didn’t mean it like that, it’s just… people who’ve been through rough shit? You feel like… everyone thinks they have it worse than you. It’s like people don’t know pain can be _pain_ , if it’s not… if you can’t see where it started, or… people think I _chose_ this, you know? Like I should shut up if there’s someone like you in the room or…”

Amélie took her hand and held it fiercely. “Let us not make it a competition, then.”

Sombra sighed, and watched the falling snow, gulping with nerves.

“…Yeah. If you wanna talk, if you… think that would help, I’m… I’m here. Anytime.”

With a heavy breath to clear away her unease, the doubts of her worth, and her protective guard against shows of vulnerability, Amélie leaned into Sombra’s chest, wrapping an arm around the other girl and feeling her tense.

“Are you… are you _sure_ you’re comfortable with… with me?” There was open, wary, and staunch concern in Sombra’s half-wavering, half-scolding voice.

Amélie rolled her eyes. “What does it _look_ like?”

Sombra relaxed, though didn’t seem able to disperse her hesitance completely. Cautious hands held Amélie with a light touch, a gentleness that Amélie let herself have.

“Everything is… is _numb_ ,” Amélie spoke again quietly, watching the snow and listening to the faint music from inside. “All the things I was once glad for, they… don’t feel right anymore. I don’t feel right, as I suppose you never did at all, but… I am trying.”

“…Me too.”

“The season is…” Amélie considered. “...it is like they say. Magical. Full of hope and warmth and company. From… what I remember.”

“Sounds nice,” Sombra murmured with a tearful breath.

“It… will be here again, when we are ready to live it.”


End file.
